


crafted in the image of my indulgence

by nafraks



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caring Hannibal Lecter, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Fluffyfest, Free Will, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Happy Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nafraks/pseuds/nafraks
Summary: Hannibal is warm, and Will likes to indulge.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 214





	crafted in the image of my indulgence

The room was newly lit with sunlight, breaching across the sizable space from the open windows; Hannibal’s doing from his earlier venture to the bathroom. It was as if the room had a tint of gold, a soft kind, one that was much too precious in its own right to be broken by harsh, man-made light. 

Will stifled from his sleep as the light shone into his eyes and across one half of his face. If Hannibal were awake, he would call this divine intervention. 

With a grunt, Will’s eyes opened, little by little. In an attempt not to worsen his eyesight more than he already had, his arm stretched to his left for his glasses, where they were laying exactly where he placed them in last night’s hurry. In his defence, Hannibal was insatiable. 

In Hannibal’s defence, so was Will. 

Now that he was a little more awake, Will’s eyes trailed over his own body, adorned with two blankets intermingling. One; a delicate cream, the other; a darker grey. The softness they provided him, he appreciated, but now he was feeling sweaty, and so kindly and with great fondness, moved them away. 

Or perhaps he threw them off, irritated at the unwanted heat they struck him with, but the sentiment remains. 

He leaned back into bed, head hitting the pillow just about where Hannibal’s arm rested. Will turned towards him, admiring the stillness in Hannibal’s features – Hannibal was often void of facial emotion, but here he didn’t manufacture it on his own. 

Here, he felt safe enough to let himself be at peace. Here, with Will. 

A smile crept itself on Will’s face at the thought. His mouth pressed up against Hannibal’s forehead where his hair lay unkempt. He adored when Hannibal’s hair was uncharacteristically strewn out due to the rarity of it. Pressing a dainty kiss to the strands of burgundy, he etched this memory into his mind.

A heated hand gripped at Will’s throat, trying to emulate Will’s own grip on Hannibal’s waist. Bemused, Will quirks an eyebrow, all the while coddling into the warmth Hannibal’s body radiated. His own personal heater Will liked to think. Hannibal let him. 

“You wouldn’t let go of the blankets.” 

A slight rosy hue appeared on Will’s cheeks, both at the image of Hannibal looking at a sleepy, stubborn, blanket thieving Will, and at how Hannibal’s sultry voice echoes into Will’s, now gulping, adam's apple. 

“I get cold. Besides, you’re warm enough without them,” Will retorts, deciding to stick up for himself in his most vulnerable, seemingly mischievous state. Almost to prove his point, Will pulls the grip he has on Hannibal’s waist towards him, their chest centimetres away from touching. He lets himself succumb to it, the warmness of Hannibal Lecter. 

He sighed softly before continuing in the smallest, most quietest voice, “Warm for me.”

And if Hannibal’s heart damn near erupted with all the intensity of a burner oven for his overloading fondness for the man snuggled into him, he wouldn’t tell you.

If he encompassed his lover’s body, surrounded Will’s petite frame with his muscular arms and taller stature and continued even when Will’s heartily boisterous laughter echoed off the walls, he wouldn’t tell you. 

If his mind felt at ease as he breathed in Will’s scent, nose brushing against the curve of his neck, which Hannibal had memorised and could tell it was Will’s from touch alone. Well, he wouldn’t tell you. 

“Warm for you, Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me indulge in domestic fluff hannigram it is quite literally my only source of serotonin


End file.
